Page 24 of The Last Viking

As she moved around the tiny kitchen, he watched her every move, as if memorizing them for future reference. Maybe he was an alien come to study earthly civilization. Hey, it was no more implausible than Rolf’s time-travel story.

His constant scrutiny made her unnaturally nervous. Probably because she kept remembering how he’d looked in her bed last night, how they’d almost made love.

“Tell me about that talisman,” she finally said, seeking something to distract her thoughts. “How do you figure a belt clasp has magic powers?”

“Huh? What magic clasp? Oh, nay, you misunderstand. ’Tis not the clasp that is the talisman. The clasp is just a protective covering.”

She turned the soup on low and put two more grilled cheese sandwiches in the frying pan, after removing two that were done. Then she gave him her full attention. “What do you mean?”

He removed the belt and demonstrated. In the back of the large, circular disc clasp was a secret lever that he sprang, releasing the back side and exposing an exquisite gold cross inside. About three inches at its widest point, the crucifix wasn’t a pendant, although it probably could have been used as such. The back of the cross was rough; obviously it had broken off from another piece.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! May I hold it?”

He nodded, handing it to her. As soon as he placed it in her palm, she felt its pulsing heat. She glanced up at him quickly, and she saw that he understood what she was feeling.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A gilt frontispiece that my father tore off a Bible three years past whilst pillaging Lindisfarne—Holy Island—in Britain.”

Meredith put a hand to her forehead in confusion. “Wait a minute. The famous Viking attack on the Lindisfarne monastery took place about two hundred years before that, in the late eighth century.”

Rolf frowned at her interruption. “This was the second attack on Lindisfarne, and—”

“Aha! You said you weren’t into raping and pillaging.”

He made a tsking sound at being interrupted again. “I said that my family, personally, does not indulge in rape. I ne’er said we do not pillage. Pillaging is an honorable Viking endeavor. In truth, Saxons and Franks also are quite adept at pillaging and plundering. And I did not say my father attacked the Lindisfarne monastery. The good monks left the island a century ago. Nay, my father took the frontispiece from a villager whose family had stolen the holy book afore the priests left. So, you see, ’twas not really stealing since the item was stolen to begin with.”

“Go on, then,” she said with a sigh of resignation. The man had an answer for everything.

“Three years past, in 994, my father joined his brother Olaf—”

“The king of Norway?”

“Yea, Olaf Tryggvason, the king of Norway. If you keep interrupting me, wench, I will ne’er finish my saga.”

It was becoming a saga, all right.

“My father, a Norwegian jarl, along with King Olaf and Sven Forkbeard, the king of Denmark, banded together for a grand invasion of Britain. Ninety-four warships there were in the combined fleet—many of them ships I had built. ’Twas the most formidable Viking attack on Britain in more than a half century.”

“Who won?”

Rolf shrugged. “Many of the British nobles were prepared to accept Sven as ruler, but London was defended stubbornly just the same. And, as always, there was much bickering in the Danish and Norwegian ranks. ’Twas an unnatural alliance, you see, betwixt two Viking rulers who’d been trying for years to gobble each other up. In the end, Aethelred bought their allegiance with a danegeld of sixteen thousand pounds.”

Meredith was more confused than ever. “What does all this have to do with the talisman and the holy relic?”

“Sore angry was my father when he left Britain three years ago. Angry at his brother Olaf who stayed behind at the Saxon court, promising Christian conversion of all Norsemen. Angry at the weak-spined Aethelred who can be trusted only so far. Angry at the gods who failed to watch over the dead warriors. Mostly, he was angry at the Christian God since my mother had talked my father into baptism afore sailing.”

“So, in retaliation, he plundered a Christian monastery on the way home,” Meredith offered.

“That he did…except that he did not realize the monastery was no longer there.” He waved his hand in a careless gesture. “So, he raided some homes instead and found their hidden riches.”

Wealthy churches had been the targets of many Viking raids in the tenth century; Meredith knew that from her studies. That didn’t mean she believed Rolf’s story. “Go on,” she encouraged, nonetheless. “Why do you refer to this particular object as a talisman? What’s so special about it?”

“’Tis not the crucifix itself that is important, but the relic buried in its depths during the forging.”

“Relic?”

“Yea, three eyelashes from the lid of St. Cuthbert, a former monk at Lindisfarne, wrapped around a sliver of wood. The splinter comes from the staff of Moses. He was the holy man in the Christian Bible who rid the ancient lands of pestilence through the powers of his staff.”